IN OTHER WORDS: SPLIT
MY ASS IN TWO AND FUCKING CROWN IT
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I
Fool Myself:
and if in, this Phrase, all the yaws of this City Bulge Lean and Full, then my
Retention of Self and Language, Shutters
the Doors from the Edifice of Movement’s Resolution.
That Past Sentence is Getting us Nowhere.
However, it is Possible, that in the Coming-Days, I’ll Need a New Dick in that Sense.
And in this Sense: to Cross-Out not just this One, but this Two,
and this Three, and this Pistil and Fortuitous Ruination that I have Come for You. The Real Concern, is to Exclude, the External World, so to
Engulf, Deliminations, from the
Start. This is about, like, Thinking
About Someone, that You Think is (in)
Gone. And She Says to Me: these
Stairs are Steep. This is a Laying-Your-Leg-Out
kind of Afternoon. I Am Here for Kisses and a Penetrating History of Maps. And
In the Morning: the very Rich Hours of the Morning. I wanted you to say “howrel” to tell you that N.
shall Sculpt this Disaster and 4 Clocked Figures that’ll Arise on the Horizon this November.
But Really, Who Can Say
Anything of the womps
Fertility. Cheese, Olives, Fries and the
Morning Filled with Trumpets. I Have
Glanced, So-Many-Times, Toward all that
my ass can Pounce and Besides this Mere Addition, is Information, that Denotes: I Must Be Fly. And Bucking-Back: I Dreamed of the Missouri
Pines, of the Daily Roll-Call, the
Salutes and the Gulp of the Summer Heat, And-Of-Course,
How I would Meet Her and Kiss Her Beside the Pond, while Pondering my next
Escape to the City, and Ultimately, Leaving Her, Alone to Walk that Mile back
to The Barracks, While I Chased Whatever-Was-Left
of my Desires for What I
Desired. in other words: Split my
Ass in Two and fucking Crown It.
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